Crack Attack: A Collection of One-Shots and Other Disturbing Shit

Poison (Chipotlan)

 Warning: Do not read this one-shot if you're a smut virgin or if you try to avoid sexually explicit content. This chapter is loosely based on the song "Poison" by Groove Coverage (see above).
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Here we are again, like a dozen times before. The light from the screensaver reflects off of the shining foil dress covering every centimeter of your perfectly sculpted body and every second seems to last longer than the second before. My fingers gently trail over your smooth length and the simple touch warms my body and wakes up my tired soul. I can't wait any longer and I gently peel back your delicate lingerie to reveal your soft, supple skin. This is the best show I've ever seen and you're barely even trying.

I run my tongue slowly up the side of your warm, sweet shaft and the simple act makes my mouth drip like a waterfall and my cock ache like it had been turned into Stonehenge, dangerously placed and ready to fall. I move to your tip and start gently prying your entrance open. The smell of your spicy juices drives me to the brink and I just want to shove all of you in my mouth at once. I've never seen anything this perfectly perfect before and I need you to be mine.

I dive right in, knowing you don't like to be exposed like this. Your fragile tortilla bends to fit the shape of my mouth and cheeks as I carefully open your folds and clean you out. The tangy mixture of salsa, sour cream, and guacamole smears across my face and runs down my neck as prickly grains of wet rice spill down onto my bare chest and tickle the inside of my nose. Nothing can rival this feeling – no man, woman, or thing can make me feel the way you do, love. I just hope you enjoy this as much as I do. I know we're a little different in that department but you still fulfill your life's purpose, right? No matter what, you always come back to me, more perfect than ever before.

You take my breath away and I just can't stay away, even though I know you're poison to me. You get a thrill out of my pain, don't you? You laugh when my blood runs cold without you and when I lay alone at night in my bed back home without any way to meet you for a little game. I can hear you calling but there's nothing I can do when I'm so far away from you. But the burning! The beautiful burning I feel when I finally get to see you again! The way your hot juices sting and the way your steaming flesh scorches mine... I can't get enough. I always need more. You're a cruel mistress but you're so addictive I can't stop. I always need more. Just one more taste, one more night, one more rush.

It doesn't take long before your sweet, delicate shaft explodes and I follow immediately behind you, savoring the salty, spicy, cheesy mixture of your fluids as I come down from my high. I won't be here much longer and it becomes harder and harder to make myself pack my bags every day. Three weeks wasn't anywhere near long enough and it never will be. I'm willing to move my entire life here to the States for you. I'm willing to lose my title as the top Australian Minecraft YouTuber for you. I'm willing to take Trump as my king for you, bae. What do you think?

You like that don't you?

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"Hey, Lachlan? You said you were getting up at ten to help us clean the house for the repair guys." I pound on the door to his room and there's no answer. Damn it, Lachlan. It's bad enough that I have to babysit Jerome all the time. Why do I have to take care of your ass, too? "Lachlan! Come on, dood! We have work to do before Jerome climbs back in bed for the third time."

"G' eee, Miiit."

"What?" I carefully turn the door knob and I find that it's locked. Fair enough, but he acts more and more suspiciously every day. What is he going to do when he has to fly back home at the end of the week? Does he act like this at home, too, or is it just something that he graces our house with?

"Go away, Mitch. I don't feel good." I open my mouth to answer him when Jerome pokes his head out across the hall and beckons for me to join him in his room. He silently holds his phone out for me to see something on his screen and he's trying to hold back his snorts of laughter. There in the middle of the screen is a picture of the Chipotle chili pepper with a bold black headline running underneath it: 'FDA Investigates New Multistate Outbreak of E. Coli Linked to Chipotle Mexican Grill Restaurants.'

"Rejected," Jerome snickers as the muffled sound of pitiful moaning fills the upstairs of the house. "Looks like Lachlan's not gonna make his flight on Thursday."

"He doesn't sound too happy about that."

"Meh. He'll live. He clearly didn't wanna leave, anyways." He gets up from his fugly postmodern couch and gently steers me to the side to walk over to Lachlan's room. He looks up and grins at me as he slides another of his endless series of gift cards under the door into the dark room, a burrito wrapped in a shining silver wrapper printed on the front. That is the most sexual-looking burrito I have ever seen.

"You're such an asshole," I laugh as I follow him downstairs to start cleaning up the last three weeks of filth from us neglecting our chores, no thanks to Lachlan the invalid.

"At least I still have one, Mitch."